Johnlock One-shots

309.Photograph

Warning~! I'm starting a war with your feelings. This is a trip! Comment where you started crying. I started crying where Sherlock said he couldn't go through with it.
And guys... It's more heartbreaking actually writing it, by the way.
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Sherlock flipped the page, a small smile on his face.

John looked over his shoulder, trying to see. Sherlock moved so he could.

“I remember that!” John said, pointing to a picture taped onto the to left corner of the page. Sherlock smiled and leant into John, taking his hand and tracing the golden ring.

“I do, too.” He looked over to his husband, who smiled and leant in, pressing their lips together.

“Our wedding was so fun,” John whispered, flipping the page to look at more wedding pictures.

Sherlock nodded and smiled, pulling John closer, seeking his warmth. John pulled himself up and moved so he was sitting on Sherlock's lap instead of in his wheelchair.

They took a minute to wrap their arms around each other and get comfortable.

Sherlock sighed and rubbed John's thigh, leaning into him. John leant into Sherlock and looked through the pages with him.

After awhile, Sherlock spoke up. “I don't think I can do this.” He whispered, blinking away some tears. “No, I can't.” He looked at John and sighed, pulling him closer.

“You're going to have to be strong, okay?” John smiled and kissed Sherlock's cheek. “For us… f-for Rosamund. She needs a parent figure in her life. And I'm glad that'll be you.”

Sherlock frowned and shook his head, looking over to the crib, where Rosie lay, curled up with her thumb in her mouth and some stuffed animals around her.

“But why couldn't it be me?” Sherlock's voice was shaking. “Why did it have…”

“Shhhh.” John cupped Sherlock's cheek and smiled at him. “You need to stay strong, Sherlock. The doctors did the best they could. Everyone dies eventually, right?”

“But you?” Sherlock asked, adjusting how John sat on his lap. “John WatsonHolmes?”

John frowned and laid his cheek against Sherlock's shoulder. “I know. I'm sorry. I wish there was more we could do…” Now, he felt like he was going to start crying. He flipped the page again, trying to revisit these memories, where they were frozen in time, smiling, happy.

John wiped a tear from his cheek. “Help back in my wheelchair. I want to hold Rosamund one last time before going to the hospital and…” He trailed off.

Sherlock nodded, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. “Yes, Sir.” He whispered, trying to lighten the mood. He picked up John, his 43 year old husband who had been suffering from Brain Cancer for the last year and a half. It had gotten so bad, that if he walked, he would lose balance and fall over, or become dizzy.

Today, John was going to die. The doctors said that he would die this week, anyways.

And oh, god, did hearing that news hurt. It had sent a shock through the family-- London-- No, the world. Anyone who was a fan.

Sherlock picked up their baby girl and set her in John's arms.

“You can't leave me. I'm a horrible father.” Sherlock whispered as he let go of Rosamund. John held her, crying silently.

“I can't stay, either. I don't want to suffer, Sherlock.” John shifted and kissed Rosie. She opened her eyes and looked up at John. She frowned, because he was crying. He smiled and stuck out his tongue, making a funny face. Rosie giggled and smiled.

“Look at you two..” Sherlock whispered, taking out his phone. “C-can I take a picture?” He asked. “To add to the book… I'll have to show Rosie when she's older. She needs to know what a good father you were, John. Y-You…” He choked up.

John smiled handsomely and pointed Rosie to the camera. She wasn't smiling, so John blew on her stomach and made her giggle. She started squirming, smiling widely. Sherlock took a few pictures. He smiled and walked over to John.

He knelt down and kissed him. “I couldn't spend the rest of my life with you, but I'm glad you got to spend the rest of yours with me.” He leant in and kissed John softly. John set his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and leant up, kissing him softly.

“Don't forget me.” John whispered into his ear.

“I won't.”

“Don't forget I love you…”

Sherlock nodded. “I won't.”

------- 9 Years Later

“I think you're old enough.” Sherlock Watson said, taking his ten year old daughter’s hand.

“For what?” She asked, following him to where he lead her.

“For John.”

“Dad?” She smiled a little. She could barely remember him, but she remembered he was really nice, and warm.

“Yeah.” Sherlock adjusted the book in his arms. “I'm still sad he isn't here with you. God, I miss him.” He stopped at a grave.

“Hey, Daddy, that's your name!” She said, pointing to another grave that said, 'SHERLOCK HOLMES’

“Yeah, the two years when I was dead. That used to be my last name, Holmes,and then it was WatsonHolmes, and now just… Watson...” He whispered, bending over in front of a different grave. “J-John was buried here.”

Rosie knelt down and looked at the grave. Engraved in the tombstone was,

RIP

JOHN HAMISH WATSONHOLMES

VETERAN, HUSBAND, AND FATHER

Sherlock paused. He set a hand on the stone. “Brain Cancer,” he whispered, trying not to cry in front of his daughter. “Rosamund, your father was a great man..” his body trembled. Rosamund knelt down next to him.

“I'm sure he was.” She looked at the tombstone.

Sherlock frowned and looked down. “Don’t forget I love you, John…” He whispered quietly, tracing a heart in the dirt, which was wet from yesterday's rain.

He imagined John standing in front of him and whispering, 'I know.’